Your Character's Name:Michella To my brother Oren--
Dear Oren my brother, my twin, who I love so much. I know you will never get to read this but i feel it must be writen. I wished to tell this to your face of course but that can never happens since now you have past on.
You used to read me farytails from dad's old book and after awhile you knew them by heart. We would collect firewood and you would tell me storeas from the Grims about children who get lost in the woods and would be taken and eaten by whitches. You learned to read and write so good, so much better than me. that someday I thought you might rite your own. That would be one the questshuns I will ask when we see each other again. Did you ever rite your storeas?
My life has been like one of those scary storeas. Those men took me away and tried to sell me as a hore but the madame wouldn't take me but she slipped a pen knife in my hand while doing her inspecshun. That night I cut my hands free and stood over those sleeping men wanting to cut their evil throats for all they had done, but knew I could never look you in the face again if I had done it. So I ran off instead.
I hid in the rubble coming out only at night to search for food. I became too thin and lost all my strenght. I wandered north following the lake and found a huge house all lit up, like a castle from those farytails. Crazy from hunger I squeezed through the bars and found the kitchen. I broken open a window and filled my shirt with fruit and bread but they caught me and brought me to theyre prison.
Time made no sense in that place. Was I there a month? A year? More? I will never know. Torchlight and screams and prisoners coming and going, but I stayed put, growing weaker and weaker and closer to death. I was lieing on the cold floor trying to sleep when we heard the exploshuns. Guns and more guns, I thought we were at war. Then shouts closer and two men broke into prison room. They shot the gards and started opening sells. Then one man shouted in joy and held a prisoner in his arms. They knelt by the wall and I thought they were praying as their frend unlocked every sell, yelling for them to hurry up. They stood and ran, shoving us all in a far sell when the wall blew up. I ran and fell and someone picked me up and dragged me to safety. Outside I felt rain on my face and cried with joy when we heard the biggest exploshun of them all and fell to the ground. The whole prison was on fire.
The men braght us to theyre home and fed us soup. The hansome prisoner talked about a new kind of comunity based on trust and respect and love. It sounds good but we will have to see. Then he nelt next to me and took my hands and told me that his younger brother had gotten help from four brave stragners in breaking us out. One man was looking for his twin sister and I knew at once that he was talking about you. My heart rose but not for long as he told about the exploshun and how they thougt you and one other died in the blast. They beleve the other two men excaped but no one knows for sure.
A girl is dragged from her home and abused and put into prison for steeling a scrap of bread, and is rescud by her brave twin brother who gives his life for hers. Sounds like one of your farytales, doesn't it? A happy ending until you really think about what has been lost.
I will stay with these brothers for awhile and get better at reading and writing. The nice one helped me with these lines. I will write your farytale Oren and spread the word of your bravery as best as I can. We will rebuild this world, and we will stich our rags together with storeas like yours and create a new flag, one soaked with fire, and blood, and tears of those who survived. As it whips in the wind we will stand together, arm in arm, and remember.
With all of my love. I will see you someday in Heaven.
To my brother Oren--
Dear Oren my brother, my twin, who I love so much. I know you will never get to read this but i feel it must be writen. I wished to tell this to your face of course but that can never happens since now you have past on.
You used to read me farytails from dad's old book and after awhile you knew them by heart. We would collect firewood and you would tell me storeas from the Grims about children who get lost in the woods and would be taken and eaten by whitches. You learned to read and write so good, so much better than me. that someday I thought you might rite your own. That would be one the questshuns I will ask when we see each other again. Did you ever rite your storeas?
My life has been like one of those scary storeas. Those men took me away and tried to sell me as a hore but the madame wouldn't take me but she slipped a pen knife in my hand while doing her inspecshun. That night I cut my hands free and stood over those sleeping men wanting to cut their evil throats for all they had done, but knew I could never look you in the face again if I had done it. So I ran off instead.
I hid in the rubble coming out only at night to search for food. I became too thin and lost all my strenght. I wandered north following the lake and found a huge house all lit up, like a castle from those farytails. Crazy from hunger I squeezed through the bars and found the kitchen. I broken open a window and filled my shirt with fruit and bread but they caught me and brought me to theyre prison.
Time made no sense in that place. Was I there a month? A year? More? I will never know. Torchlight and screams and prisoners coming and going, but I stayed put, growing weaker and weaker and closer to death. I was lieing on the cold floor trying to sleep when we heard the exploshuns. Guns and more guns, I thought we were at war. Then shouts closer and two men broke into prison room. They shot the gards and started opening sells. Then one man shouted in joy and held a prisoner in his arms. They knelt by the wall and I thought they were praying as their frend unlocked every sell, yelling for them to hurry up. They stood and ran, shoving us all in a far sell when the wall blew up. I ran and fell and someone picked me up and dragged me to safety. Outside I felt rain on my face and cried with joy when we heard the biggest exploshun of them all and fell to the ground. The whole prison was on fire.
The men braght us to theyre home and fed us soup. The hansome prisoner talked about a new kind of comunity based on trust and respect and love. It sounds good but we will have to see. Then he nelt next to me and took my hands and told me that his younger brother had gotten help from four brave stragners in breaking us out. One man was looking for his twin sister and I knew at once that he was talking about you. My heart rose but not for long as he told about the exploshun and how they thougt you and one other died in the blast. They beleve the other two men excaped but no one knows for sure.
A girl is dragged from her home and abused and put into prison for steeling a scrap of bread, and is rescud by her brave twin brother who gives his life for hers. Sounds like one of your farytales, doesn't it? A happy ending until you really think about what has been lost.
I will stay with these brothers for awhile and get better at reading and writing. The nice one helped me with these lines. I will write your farytale Oren and spread the word of your bravery as best as I can. We will rebuild this world, and we will stich our rags together with storeas like yours and create a new flag, one soaked with fire, and blood, and tears of those who survived. As it whips in the wind we will stand together, arm in arm, and remember.
With all of my love. I will see you someday in Heaven.
--Michella